


Words Are All We Have

by writeitininkorinblood



Series: I'll Pray For You [4]
Category: Cursed (TV 2020)
Genre: Active Consent, Lancelot needs to learn to use his words, M/M, Negotiations, Oral Sex, vaguely described but still happening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26130475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeitininkorinblood/pseuds/writeitininkorinblood
Summary: Lancelot was raised to speak only when spoken to, which is really not ideal when Gawain would like some indication that his partner is enjoying his attempts to make him feel good.
Relationships: Gawain | The Green Knight/The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed)
Series: I'll Pray For You [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870960
Comments: 1
Kudos: 151





	Words Are All We Have

**Author's Note:**

> Gawain is trying to be a good boyfriend. Lancelot needs to use his goddamn words.

Lancelot had always been quiet, but the longer he spent in the company of the Fey the more he had slowly started to talk. Gawain loved the rare occasions he would ramble, usually under the influence of a little too much to drink, but he still couldn’t be considered a chatty person. It was clear he had been raised to speak when spoken to and he still looked guilty when he raised thoughts without being prompted.

Usually Gawain was the person Lancelot would speak most freely with and when they were alone it was never a problem to converse with him as easily as Gawain could with anyone else. But when Lancelot felt out of his depth, he went quiet again. And there was one sure-fire way to make him feel out of his depth.

Gawain was fairly certain he was far from the least skilled person who could be on the floor between Lancelot’s knees. He had never received any complaints from past partners. And Lancelot wasn’t complaining either, exactly, but he never said much of anything while Gawain’s mouth was on him. He didn’t make any noise to suggest pleasure, he didn’t even reach out to touch Gawain - just planted his hands by his sides on the bed. And it would have been worrying, would have made Gawain think that maybe this wasn’t entirely mutual, only if he paid careful attention then he could read pleasure in the way Lancelot’s fingers clenched and grabbed at the fabric of the sheets, the way the muscles in his legs tightened, the way his breath hitched. Gawain had even managed to get him to start mumbling a Man Blood prayer under his breath once but he still hadn’t yet worked out if that was an indication of enjoyment or if Lancelot was just particularly concerned about his salvation in that moment. It was reassuring, but he was usually too distracted by what he was doing to pay close enough attention to each tiny movement so he still couldn’t easily gauge what Lancelot liked most. He took pleasure in getting on his knees, but he liked it more when he knew he was doing a good job and it was so difficult to do that when Lancelot wouldn’t give him anything to go off.

It was only when Gawain was trying his absolute best to draw a moan, a sigh, a curse from Lancelot and the best he could get was fingers twisting so tightly in sheets that threads were ripping that he decided he’d had enough. At least pulling away earned him a tiny whine of disappointment as he sat back on his heels and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Are you enjoying this?” Gawain asked, frustrated. When he saw the flash of shock in Lancelot’s eyes at his harsh tone he immediately calmed down. The last thing he wanted was to seem angry. “You haven’t made a noise. Haven’t touched me once. If you don’t want this then please tell me. I don’t want to be making you do something you don’t want to do.”

Lancelot sighed, not meeting Gawain’s eyes. He knew that he was expected to be more vocal, and he understood it. Gawain would groan and curse when he was turned on and Lancelot couldn’t deny that he liked hearing it. But he wasn’t used to people wanting to hear him, wasn’t used to being allowed to do things like speak up when he had things to say or reach out when he wanted to touch.

This wasn’t a discussion Gawain particularly wanted to have from the floor. He got up to sit beside Lancelot on the bed, brushing against his hand with his own to reassure him he wasn’t alone in this conversation, knowing how awkward it probably was for him to talk about. 

“I am enjoying it,” Lancelot managed. He wanted to make sure that Gawain had nothing to be concerned about when it came to his consent - that had been the first awkward, intimacy-related conversation they’d had. Because if Gawain wasn’t sure he wanted it then he might stop, and Lancelot was pretty sure that the other man dropping to his knees in front of him was as close as he was going to actually come to finding god. He might not have been able to verbalise that, but he hoped Gawain still understood.

“Then you’re allowed to let me know. I would very much like it if you did. I want this to be good for you and that’s far easier if I can tell what you like,” Gawain explained, as gently as he could.

He could only read so much into tiny catches of breath and hands fisting in blankets. Making sure Lancelot was enjoying what they did was important and he needed to be certain that each touch was well-received. After a long moment of silence, Lancelot answered with a question of his own.

“Are you enjoying this?”

“What?”

If Lancelot had been anyone else Gawain would have taken his hand and led it to his groin to show him just how much pleasure he got from being down on his knees, but the other man had still never touched him like that unprovoked and without generous encouragement and he didn’t want to be so trivial about it. So instead he had to use his words.

“Yes. Trust me, I’m enjoying this. As long as you are, I am,” he promised.

He was convincing, but Lancelot still often wondered how much he could truly enjoy being in a relationship with someone as broken as he knew he was, someone who struggled with things most people found easy.

“Do you wish I was on my knees for you?” Lancelot asked, curious. 

Gawain just blinked. Lancelot had never done that, never even suggested it. He would have been lying to say that he wasn’t incredibly partial to the idea, but that was a matter for another time.

“I would not say no if you offered but that has little to do with right now,” he said, honestly. “This is something I like doing. Actively enjoy. Especially when my partner likes that I’m doing it.”

“I’m sorry,” Lancelot sighed, fidgeting with the fabric of the blanket between his fingers.

Gawain took his hand properly to still his nervousness, stroking small circles with his thumb. 

“You don’t need to be sorry. Just... Put your hands in my hair. I don’t mind how hard you pull. I know you hold on to the blankets but if you hold on to me then I can feel when you like something and I can do more of it. Or just tell me. Any words will do, I won’t even comment on what god you choose to call out to,” he said with a small smirk. “I know it’s not easy, but please? Trust me when I say that you’ll enjoy it more if I have some feedback.”

Lancelot very much doubted that was possible but he could see how much it mattered to Gawain and if he wasn’t yet ready to reciprocate in kind then he could at least make it clear how grateful and frankly baffled he was that Gawain wanted to put so much effort into making him feel good.

“Okay,” he promised.

“Okay?”

“Yes, okay,” Lancelot managed a smile.

Gawain leaned over to kiss him, fingers gentle against his cheek. Then he got less gentle, slowly rekindling what they’d interrupted. When he slid off the bed and crawled back between Lancelot’s thighs, he felt tentative hands weaving into his hair and looked up with a grin.

“I meant it when I said pull as hard as you like,” he reminded. “I know you have it in you, Ash Man."


End file.
